Awkward Moments
by CrazyAbout
Summary: Trees, undergrowth and a whole bunch of foreign agents. Harry and Ruth are thrown into a situation where they have to own up to the team from Seasons 4 and 5, that she's finally said yes to that second date.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes giving the impression that he felt otherwise, Harry genuinely liked Zaf. In fact he envied him in many ways. His ability to switch off at the end of a busy day, his boyish charm and enthusiasm, and his never say die attitude were all assets. But not his unwavering optimism, that included in the endless supply of women that were angling after his body, was Harry's very own analyst. Endlessly chatting up Ruth, to wind him up he supposed, had been going on for days. But what was really annoying him, was that it was succeeding.

Zaf was grinning, he generally did. Not only that he was humming the first lines of Happy Days Are Here Again. Not that anybody was looking at him, they were all far too busy trying to control their own facial expressions. Which in Jo's case involved gazing at the ceiling lights, giving a damn good impression of Malcolm when he was looking for bugging devises. She being the only person in the meeting room, who was wishing that things would calm down and the others would just let Harry and Ruth get on with it. Whatever _it_ happened to be? They were adults for heaven's sake, so what they did or didn't do when they were away from the grid, was nobody else's business.

Why don't they go the whole hog and invite the Russians? Zaf had said, adding fuel to the fire of Adam's earlier suggestion, that it was going to be like Sleeping with the Enemy, except on speed. A grave error in anyone's books, which was doing nothing to improve the mood that their esteemed boss was already in. Harry had been to the Home Office and returned with an expression of mixed messages, having been told that he and his team were expected to attend an Inter European team bonding, _rumble in the jungle _was how the overly cheerful Towers had described it, waving his almond croissant under Harry's nose. Having missed his own breakfast, then one more time and Harry would have snatched it.

The weekend designed to establish a way forward, so that the UK could continue to be part of their we're all in this together security policy, in the event of no deal Brexit was bollocks, he'd told the insistent Home Secretary. No one told anyone anything. That's why they were called secret services.

As if that wasn't enough, if you're so worried about Miss Evershed, then devise a way to handle her yourself, Towers had continued. A statement that Harry hoped had resulted from his ill-advised protest that his analyst hadn't been trained for field work, rather than an insight into the recent upturn in his personal life. Stop prevaricating man and just get on with it and he'd left. Wondering how the hell he was going to convince Ruth that they had nothing to worry about.

Ruth wasn't the only one that was trying to blank out Harry's last sentence, that had started with two nights in the Black Forest in Germany and ended with under canvas, as she fiddled with her hands and refused to look at anyone, most especially him. Everyone had gossiped about their first date which had ended with her rejection, but after much persuading on his part, she'd finally said yes to Harry's now well - established attentions. Outside of the grid of course. Not only that, they'd made a damn good job of keeping it a secret, which a two-night lying on a forest floor exercise, under a moonlit sky with a protective Harry, as nice as the prospect was, wasn't something that she wanted to share with their over–zealous and far too imaginative colleagues.

Ros whose smirk which was universally admired, although not by her, was already unbearable, and she'd milk it for all it was worth if their cover was blown. And how could it not, given that Adam was now talking about pairings, with a smile on his face and in a tone in his voice, that suggested that he was about to suggest that she and Harry should be paired together. Which made sense, if only she could get past the reality that they already were - paired that was, in every sense of the word, and had been for several weeks.

She wasn't a field agent, she wasn't trained for this, not really, and to make matters worse, 'isn't Malcolm coming with us?' from Jo, was answered when the one person that Ruth could be sure wouldn't make a meal out of their new situation if he found out, walked in with his arm in a sling, having slipped on some spilt coffee and broken two of his fingers. Dying now felt like a good option if only she had the courage. But then Harry would get upset and she couldn't let that happen.

'What's the dress code for the weekend?' Asked Jo, in an attempt to break the tension, only to be twisted into another reason for amusement by Ros, who chipped in with, 'is there any chance we'll be going commando?'

Harry wanted to say 'oh for goodness sake children' but found that he couldn't, as images of thrashing about in the undergrowth with a near naked Ruth, were turning his ears pink, and his mouth to open and close at will. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Adam, who'd read the memo and was beginning to realise that this was spiralling out of control and he needed to stop it. A fun weekend in prospect it might be, but it did have a serious side and he was buggered if he was going to let the French or the Germans get the better of his team. And why the hell had they invited the Italians and the Spanish? To make up the numbers he supposed.

'Pass these around please,' he asked Jo, who by this time was grasping for diversion tactics by complaining that she'd got a stiff neck. Another reason for amusement, as the now completely on-board Ros asked if she wanted it rubbed? At which point Ruth looked as though she was about to flee the room and caused Harry to start grinding his teeth.

Things had calmed down a little during the course of the afternoon, during which time Adam had run through the programme for the weekend, supervised the issue of their combat clothing and equipment and resumed some sort of control over his team. Unfortunately, there was no doubt that Ruth being a desk spook was going to be the weak link in the chain, so it had made sense to have paired her with Harry. If two out of the three couples, namely him with Jo, and Zaf with Ros, could make it through what looked to be an exacting two night course to the finish line, or in this instance what was described as _beyond bombardment, _an expression which had made Ruth visibly shrink to the point of extinction and Ros to preen. Then maybe just maybe they'd avoid coming in last, with his considerable pride still intact.

That wasn't to say that he was any less intrigued by Ruth's apparent change of mind and what was now an obvious relationship with his boss. After what had been a difficult couple of months, he was looking forward to a weekend away and getting to know his team better. According to the programme, time off to relax would amount to one evening when they could do what they liked? Casual clothing with no rank or status, they were all going to be treated as equals. Casual in terms of clothing, meant that Harry would have to forgo his stiff upper lip tendency and become one of the lads for the weekend, and Ruth was hardly going to be racing about in one of her long skirts? They might even get to see her legs.

* * *

'It might not be too bad, we might even enjoy it,' Harry was still trying to convince a nervous Ruth, when they were sitting side by side on the sofa, having done their 'time off duty' packing and were waiting for the car to arrive, staring at the picture of the military establishment where they were going to be staying. No luxury spared I see, he'd grumbled to Adam, when he'd pointed out that it would involve a lot of _sharing_. Him now dressed entirely in black which was matching his mood, and Ruth wearing a figure - hugging red jumper and jeans, that up until now only he had been privileged to see, he didn't want to share under any circumstances. Especially with a group of randy French and Italians.

If it wasn't for the fact that the coach that was going to drive them to Brize Norton for their onward flight to Freiburg, contained a trunk full of the previously mentioned combat clothing and a considerable arsenal from Malcolm's box of tricks, they could have easily been mistaken for the couple they now were, but going on a pleasant holiday.

Except that there was no chance of that as the doorbell rang and Harry's 'we'll be fine sweetheart,' Ruth very much doubted.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been more than twenty years since Harry had been allocated a room at an army barracks, and at first glance nothing much had changed. Apart from the company and that he hadn't been marched along the corridor, with the promise of some less than kindly treatment if he didn't get a bloody move on.

Half his bloody age and a whole lot fitter, if Jo's whispered comment to Ros of _yummy _was to be believed, applied to the strapping young Italian who was occupying the room above him on the first floor, as he bounded past him in the direction of the stairs, faster than his children had done with the promise of a bedtime story. Usually occupied by an infantry platoon who'd been shipped off for the weekend, to where he hadn't bothered to ask, their rooms had been stripped of everything bar the bare essentials. Boarding school, but hopefully without the cold showers and occasional beatings summed it up to a tee, but it also triggered a thought.

As much as Ruth disliked or maybe felt less worthy than Ros, something that he needed to work on to convince her was rubbish, having Ros on their team, did in this instance have a plus side. With an attitude to the job that included not only the beating side of things at every opportunity, but the need for the realignment afterwards of their bits and bobs, as opposed to heading for an audition with the Vienna Boys Choir, by whoever the poor sod was that she'd grappled with, might come in useful. There was no doubting that with him and Ruth on his team, Adam would need all the he could get, so if the opportunity arose, then in this instance he'd turn a blind eye to Ros's ministrations. At least it wouldn't be him. He was more than adequately catered for thank you very much, and very gently to boot.

That he'd been allocated a room at the far end of the corridor, with his own top of the range catering company, namely Ruth right opposite him, was just what he wanted, but he couldn't quite get past the word _contrived_, as he finished his unpacking and tried to way up the pros and cons of popping over to see her. Adam was right, there was no division when it came to gender, and there would be a lot of the aforementioned sharing, if the shower block off the main corridor was the only place to get a wash. Quite how Ruth was going to cope with that little added extra to the curriculum, he wasn't quite sure? It was more than three weeks since she'd miraculously changed her mind and everything had been going swimmingly. It wasn't as if he cared if the others knew or found out. It was her who was still struggling. Maybe the solution to the problem was that they should own up, or better still just stop pretending. It might even help to put the others on the back foot? It was worth asking her the question and where Ruth was concerned there was no time like the present. Bugger the protocol and the possibility of him being seen, he was going over there to persuade her.

Since she'd done her unpacking, Ruth had spent the intervening time by lying on her bed and trying to concentrate on anything that didn't amount to the weekend in prospect, and how she was bound to let the team down. Interspersed with thoughts about the close proximity of Harry and how if she was in his room rather than her own, how much more relaxed she'd feel, she'd been gazing out of her window at the wall to wall forest, that appeared to be getting nearer by the minute. Maybe it didn't matter so much that she and Harry were going to be spending their twilight hours together, in fact she was beginning to feel relieved that they were. It would certainly help to make everything feel less menacing than it did at the moment. Creepy crawlies of all kinds, not to mention the human ones who would be hell bent on capturing them by whatever means possible and she was all over the place. Adam maybe as an alternative, but Zaf never. Harry would be apoplectic and end up murdering someone if he so much as laid a hand on her. Which was ridiculous because Zaf was harmless. A cup of tea that's what she needed and then she supposed that she needed to get changed, before they went downstairs for dinner and to get Adam's update about what was happening in the morning. Something about a walk around the course in their combat clothing. Which in her case didn't fit properly and made her look like a wasp that was about to be swatted.

If she could only get past the encroaching forest and the prospect of the nights under canvas, then if truth be told, the whole situation wasn't dissimilar to her first days at university. Except that the occupants of the other rooms had barely been out of short trousers, whereas now they were foreign agents that wielded guns for a living. She wouldn't have even been here, if Mark their latest recruit hadn't broken his leg, the idiot. She'd have been manning the grid with Malcolm. But then she'd have been worrying about Harry and what somebody might be doing to him. Not in the sense of what she and Harry were doing on a regular basis, Harry was hers. It was more his dodgy back that nobody other than she knew about. When it went into spasm, as it was prone to do at the most unfortunate of moments, his moans were quite extraordinary. If Ros, God forbid heard him, then the lines of communication between here and Thames House would be buzzing with misinformation.

Still there was always a plus side to everything, and having Harry close at hand was a definite plus. Providing they could keep the lid on things, then in three days and nights they'd be home. How difficult could it be?

While Harry was contemplating sneaking into Ruth's room, to try and persuade her that their colleagues would be pleased, _nay relieved_ if their relationship was out in the open, without delving into the specifics of course, Adam was on his way back from the team-leaders meeting to the exact same destination. He'd been introduced to his counterparts and shameful as it was, they all seemed to have a remarkable grasp of each other's languages. As far as he knew, apart from the female half of their very own _Bogart and Bacall_, the rest of his team spoke only a smattering of German and French, but as far as Spanish and Italian were concerned, certainly when spoken at breakneck speed, it was zilch. Which meant that Ruth's contribution during this evening's dinner and informal getting to know you social afterwards, had suddenly plummeted her to top of the pile. Especially when it came to eaves dropping on how the opposition intended beating the crap out of each other, or more importantly them, over the next couple of nights. Ruth's not wanting to be noticed or stared at appearance, which to her credit suited her, meant that nobody would suspect her. That was the beauty of it. Apart from one teensy-weensy problem. She could hardly be expected to patrol the room on her own, which meant that someone would have to stick with her for the evening. Asking Harry to keep his distance, so that he or Zaf could accompany her around a room full of foreign spies, was the equivalent of asking him to deliver her into the arms of Oliver Mace. So it had to be him. There was no other option. Broaching the subject would require tact but without innuendo, in the hope that Ruth wouldn't do a Ruth on him and reach for her passport. Now was his last chance before they went down to dinner, or he'd be searching for a plan B when there wasn't one.

He knocked on Harry's door. There was no response. Bugger it. He checked the shower block, not a sign. There was only one other possible location, but dare he and would he be interrupting something more than a conversation or a quiet moment together? He didn't think so. Whatever else anyone said about Harry, his discretion was second to none where Ruth was concerned and he would never knowingly embarrass or upset her under any circumstances, and certainly not while they were here. Maybe if he reassured them that he'd talk to the rest of his team and tell them to lay off with the wise cracks, then hopefully Ruth would say yes. It was so obvious what was going on and surely Ruth wasn't that naiive as to believe they didn't know. _She was their biggest asset because none of the opposition would know who she was and he was confident she could pull it off, _hopefully would do the trick.

* * *

Ruth's colleague's assumption that she never wore anything other than the unnoticeable, was blown away the second that she and Harry walked into the room together. Knees certainly and a very nice pair of pins, were accompanied by an understated dress that was cut just short enough for Zaf to have to suppress a whistle. Bloody hell being held back by Jo, who elbowed him in the ribs.

Adam having persuaded Ruth that she was invaluable and that nobody would comment, they wouldn't dare, had added weight to Harry's already, let's just brazen this out and we'll be fine sweetheart idea. As far as the opposition was concerned she was a field agent not an analyst and that was to her advantage, he'd told her. Confident now that she was doing something that she was trained to do, whilst at the same time metaphorically holding tight to Harry's hand, they crossed the room to where their colleagues were waiting. Standing on the periphery of the group, with Harry on one side of her and Adam on the other she glanced around the room, picking out what she presumed to be the various nationalities, not only by their accents, but from the information that Malcolm had sent her. In a room of thirty or so, only seven were women. But whether or not anyone other than her was an analyst who working rather than relaxing, she didn't know at the moment, but she intended finding out. This was what she did best. She was in her comfort zone and for the moment at least, she was feeling a little better.


	3. Chapter 3

To say that nobody was looking at Ruth was the proverbial understatement, especially when it came to her own colleagues. Persuaded by Adam and with a nudge from Harry, she'd forced herself for the moment at least, that she could do this. This being, to prise herself into the dress that she'd brought with her for the promised evening out with Harry as soon as they got home, she looked every inch the field officer she was pretending to be.

Being elbowed in the ribs by Jo, had done nothing to dampen Zaf's marvelling at the change in Ruth's appearance, whereas Ros, who up until now had been wondering if perhaps Harry ought to consider a lengthy spell in faraway nursing home to have his brain examined, was battling with the green eyed monster that was marching around in her own head. Up until now, she'd always assumed that Ruth's dowdy appearance and lack of ump around the grid, was the sum total of what she had to offer. Not so apparently. Especially as Harry's usual mooning around his analyst attitude, had transformed itself into a barely controlled look of satisfaction, as opposed to the 'keep your bloody hands to yourselves boy's' expression, of the recent weeks. Something that she couldn't ever remembering witnessing, as she watched him steering Ruth across the room in the direction of a group of noisy Italians, supposedly in search of a drink. Whatever Ruth had done to transform herself was close to miraculous and presumably without any effort. A chameleon in all senses of the word, she was holding her own in this more than illustrious company, whereas she'd been kicked into touch.

What really irked her though, was that the entire team seemed to be genuinely fond of Ruth, loved her even, whereas she was the new girl who was trying to make an impression and failing dismally. It wasn't her fault that she could run faster than most blokes and enjoyed wielding guns. Besides which as far as she knew, none of them had the nightmare of a father that she had. Surely there had to be something that she could do to make her colleagues less dismissive of her attitude? Harry seemed to accept her for what she was, but then Harry had presumably got what he wanted when it came to a woman, whereas Adam was still grieving over Fiona. Better not say anything though as she was in need of some brownie points with Harry's blue eyed boy, who unlike Harry did make her toes curl. It was just a pity that he'd paired himself with Jo, with the action about to get started.

Jo was on the same planet as Ros, but in an entirely different crater. One up on her colleague, she'd come back onto what she'd presumed had been an empty grid one evening recently when she'd forgotten her phone. Ruth and Harry had been holed up together in the kitchen and whatever Ruth had just said, the usually reticent Harry had lent across in front of her and stopped her from whatever she'd been doing. She hadn't waited long enough to find out, but she'd known that Harry was going to kiss Ruth and that Ruth wasn't about to say no. It was the moment that had convinced her that Ruth had changed her mind about that date. They hadn't seen her and apart from a quiet word to a delighted Malcolm, she'd kept that little snippet to herself. Hopefully this weekend was the opportunity that would make Ruth realise that rumours were best quelled by confronting your demons, and to hell with the people who were trying to make you feel uncomfortable, namely Ros. She hoped so anyway. Ruth and Harry under canvas in a forest at night. What a wonderful prospect and good luck to them. She on the other hand was going to be spending her nights with Adam, when she'd rather hoped it would be with the 'game for anything' Zaf.

Whilst Ruth with Harry's help, was making mental notes by the dozen as they made their way around the room, the opposition, or more precisely the bi lingual Giovani Hamilton, was rapidly trying to keep up with them. With a Scottish father and an Italian mother, he'd been selected as the perfect candidate to listen in on the conversations that the British contingent, or more precisely this particular couple were having. Added to his team after just three weeks into his new job, in the hope that Italy could steal a march on at least one of the opposition countries, he was reluctant if not more so than Ruth and with good reason. His protests that he was too inexperienced and that wasn't this supposed to be a weekend to bind relationships with their European neighbours, not divide them, had been met with the same response that Harry had had from Towers. In other words, he had to get on with it. This wasn't a bonding exercise, it was anything but, and would be no less competitive than any other situation when multiple countries were thrown together under the umbrella of togetherness. It always came back to loyalty, which in his case belonged to Italy, he'd been told in no uncertain terms. The only problem was that the couple in question didn't appear to be discussing anything about the weekend at all, just lots of rubbish really, like what do you think of the wine, let's hope the weather improves by the morning and are you feeling better than you were earlier. Which as nice as it was, wasn't going any way to help with his gathering of information.

Had he known that he'd chosen the head of counter terrorism in the UK to follow and that Harry had been on to him from the moment that he'd walked up behind them, he wouldn't have wasted his foot leather, or inflicted the strain on his nervous system, that the inevitable consequence of his failure was going to bring. And he certainly wouldn't have chosen the call to dinner, to decide that his best chance of gathering information was to sit next to Ruth, only to find when he'd excused himself to go to the bathroom, that she'd been replaced by Ros.

Ros on the other hand, having been tipped off by Harry, was chatting up her first victim.

Dinner such as it was had been sufficiently good that none of them were complaining about it, as they made their way back across the courtyard in the direction of where they were staying. Rather than finding a quiet corner in a complex of buildings that they didn't know with the possibility of being overheard, they'd decided on Adam's room as the best place to meet, to hear what if anything Ruth had to tell them.

Tagging along at the rear of the group, a now much happier Harry was no longer metaphorically holding Ruth's hand, he didn't need to. He'd just blatantly trailed his fingers across her back and got away with it. Progress indeed, which continued as they sorted themselves out in a room that was meant for one person and he settled himself on the bed next to Ruth, as opposed to his usual distance keeping. At which point no comments were made. They didn't dare. That wasn't to say that the assembled group, weren't all inwardly wondering where Harry was going to be spending the night. A discussion that Harry was going to instigate once they were all back in their rooms and he had Ruth to himself.

Twelve hours later.

Ruth's assumption that the forest was vast, dark and foreboding was confirmed the following morning, as they and the other teams were driven the short distance to the small field where twenty or so tents had been erected. All jokes were off as far as section D were concerned. This was where the serious business of proving that were a match for anyone was about to begin. While the others unloaded their equipment and provisions, into what could only be described as their _snug _two person only accommodation, Adam spread out the map on the grass in front of him. Scattered around the field, the various groups were also settling themselves in, with pretty much the same ambitions as they had Adam guessed. All outside of earshot of their neighbours, the nearest to them were the French and the Germans, who were about fifty metres away on either side. Based on what Ruth had been able to glean, they were still their greatest threat. Organised and more than capable of beating anyone had been her exact words.

Ten minutes later and with the coffee now made, he called his team together to deliver his briefing. They had an hour to prepare before they set off. They were second on the list and even though this was just a reconnaissance mission before tonight's full-blown exercise, it wasn't going to be any easier.

'The crisscross of footpaths where the forest maintenance teams drive their heavy gear once a year, need to be avoided at all costs or we'll risk being seen,' he told them, accepting his coffee from Jo. 'We'll need to be inventive, but we also need to be aware of the deep ditches and the water courses that could cause us a real problem, plus any amount of hidden hindrances that won't be obvious until we find them,' was noted without comment. 'This will be a difficult enough challenged this morning when we're all together, but tonight when we'll be split into pairs, we'll have the added hindrance of limited vision. Be careful that's all I ask, because this has the potential of being a real nightmare and none of us wants that,' did nothing to improve Ruth's conviction that bugger her accolades last evening, she was back to wanting to beam herself back onto the grid again, if as unlikely as it was, Doctor Who would miraculously appear saying 'this way darling follow me.'

Harry on the other hand looked totally relaxed as though he was relishing the challenge, which for the moment he was. It had been years since he'd been out in the field and he hadn't realised until now how much he'd missed it. It was his chance to prove that he could still cut it with the best of them and to show Ruth what had driven him to be the person he was, especially now when she was looking terribly pale again and he could offer her his support.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn't take a genius to realise that this dress rehearsal was the misnomer that both Adam and Harry suspected it was. It was a blind, designed to exhaust all but the supremely fit, or those foolhardy enough to attempt it in advance of the main event. The sheer size of the forest with its numerous hazards, never mind the dark and cold of the midnight hour, made it was a once only trip. If there was a consolation to be found, then it was that the other teams would be as disadvantaged as they were.

Now call him cynical and a lot of people did, amongst the other, should we say _less than complimentary_ adjectives that were used to describe Harry Pearce. But he couldn't quite believe that their hosts hadn't been given prior knowledge as to the quickest and safest route. Cheating in other words. On the very rare occasions when he wasn't to be found calling the shots, he demanded an even playing field and he was fairly certain that this was anything but. Who'd decided the order of play for instance? Surely all the team leaders should have been present when it happened? If they got beaten fair and square, then he wouldn't like it, but he'd take it on the chin. Discover collusion of any sort and he'd haul his team home and take whatever was thrown at him by way of criticism. Damned if he did or damned if he didn't, he'd accept the consequences. He'd done it before and he'd damn well do it again.

With the Spanish about to arrive at any moment they needed to act quickly. To buy themselves some time so that they could rethink their strategy. He on the other hand had already made what was an easy decision.

'Ruth and I are going to head back. The rest of you are more than capable of dealing with this without us, we'll see you later for something to eat,' he told his stunned audience, who apart from Adam, were failing on mass to mask what was going through their minds, as he turned away from them and beckoned to a confused Ruth to follow him. It wasn't unusual these days for him to make a statement that instructed Ruth. As in 'Ruth my office now,' or 'Ruth with me,' but this one was right up there with the best of them.

Ros wisely kept her council when she was itching to say something along the lines of, well we all know what he's got on his mind, or now there's a surprise and instead let Zaf ask the obvious question, what were they supposed to do now? Only delayed for a moment as the Spanish contingent piled past them.

Adam had watched Harry over the course of the previous evening and he'd seen him mulling things over, but he'd never seen Harry turn his back on a challenge, no matter how hard it looked, so there had to be a reason? Maybe Harry could see the bigger picture ahead of him that he couldn't? Short term though it was grin and bear it and get on with the job in hand, with or without Harry's leadership.

'You heard Harry, let's just get this over with,' he told them, dragging himself to his feet and motioning for his team to follow him.

'You think I'm a hindrance don't you?' Ruth suggested, still confused by Harry's blatant insinuation that they were deserting their post, 'to make love under the sun' so soon after breakfast, which as nice as the prospect was, surely wasn't what he'd meant? Having walked back at a leisurely pace, they were now sitting outside their tent. Her waiting for an explanation and him realising only too late, that he could have worded it better. Why was it that he never got his brain engaged when they were in company? He wished he knew?

Hindrance never, she was anything but. Bursting with a tenderness that even she didn't realise, she was the reason that he smiled when he opened his eyes each morning and the reason he smiled before he went to sleep. He'd sat on the side of her bed the previous evening, talking her down from the high wire where she'd been bouncing, and had stayed with her until she'd fallen asleep. Instigating nothing more than a kiss. As much as he would have loved it to have been more, this was just the start of a journey that he hoped would run and run, and he hadn't been about to ruin it at the first hurdle by doing something rash. Walls supposedly had ears and those particular walls had been very thin.

'Absolutely not, you're a bloody godsend that's what you are Ruth. I could never have attempted that course twice in the space of twenty-four hours,' she didn't believe for a moment. Besides which, he was still avoiding the obvious gaff, that had sent Ros's eyebrows into the stratosphere. Like Adam, Ruth had never considered that Harry would baulk at a challenge, or hint that he couldn't do something. He was doing this for her, she was sure of it. Not that she wasn't grateful, but what about tonight? Were they pulling out of that as well? She needed to know.

'We'll give it a try, unless you don't want to of course? In which case I'll go on my own,' came as a relief, but was tinged with uncertainty.

'It's not that I don't want to do it, I'm just not sure that I can,' was in part true. She had a bigger worry to contend with, apart from her lack of physical ability or trying to decide if Harry was just changing the subject, to dig himself out of the hole that he'd just created.

'Along with a good many of the others I'm suspecting and that includes me,' he admitted. 'I'm a desk spook now Ruth and it's years since I've attempted anything like this. I was stupid to think that nothing had changed. We've got nothing to prove, you and I. We just need to turn up, do our best and let the others take the plaudits. Nobody is going to think any less of us, whatever the outcome,' helped to a degree. But couldn't erase the shadowy image of Colin hanging from the tree. Something that had haunted her dreams for weeks, and since they'd arrived here, had crossed the line into her waking hours.

The file containing details of Colin's autopsy had come through from the Home Office marked urgent, on a day when both Harry and Adam had been away from Thames House. Habit and knowing in Harry's absence that he'd expect her to do it, she'd done what she'd always done and opened it. Immediately regretting her decision when the shadowy photograph had slipped through her fingers. She sealed it straight away but by then it was too late, the image had been burned on her brain. She knew she needed to talk to somebody about how she was feeling and that person could only be Harry, but not just now. He had more important things to be getting on with than her being irrational about the potential of a deja vu moment. This situation wasn't anything like the Colin one, it was just a bit of fun really. True there was a risk that one of them might get injured, but then there was a risk element in everything that they did wasn't there? She had to do this, if for no other reason, than to prove to herself that putting mind over matter actually worked.

'Ruth,' and she was back with him again. 'Pass me that map and we'll take a proper look at the alternatives. There has to be a simpler route that will get us over the line and if anyone's going to find it, then it's us. Come on, how about we give it a go?' Did make sense. Harry was right. Together they were the best at problem solving and by doing something positive, she would be temporarily safe from her demons.

'After that, I'm going to inspect the inside of our tent, so if you'd care to join me? 'and he'd won her over. Taken her down a completely different path. One where she could forget her concerns and enjoy the reality, that she and Harry were alone in a field in the middle of nowhere, and if nothing else, with several hours to spare before the others got back, a cuddle with Harry would be lovely.

But by eight o'clock in the evening, they were facing the music again.

Why was it that time always seemed to go more quickly when you'd been enjoying yourself, or dreading what was just around the corner? Was very much the case for Ruth, and to a much lesser degree Harry. Now glued together at the hip, they were eating their pre exercise meal that Jo and Zaf had cobbled together. Dressed in her camouflage clothing, as opposed to what now felt to have been a frivolous dress that she'd worn the previous evening, the light was beginning to fade. But not Harry's resolve that they'd give it their best shot. They were at their best when they were together and they'd certainly be together tonight.

'Checklist,' Adam was barking at Zaf, because he was doing a Zafism, by aiming a stone at an empty bean can, when he should have been concentrating on what his section chief was telling them. The checklist in this case was their survival kit, that Malcolm had put together and had expertly packed into three backpacks. Spare socks and some extra clothing, thorn proof gloves, some energy bars and water and a pencil thin torch. But most importantly a first aid kit and a canopy of sorts, that could be pulled over two people, in the event of one or the other of them getting injured and not being able to move.

If Harry had been given a choice, he wouldn't have been moving at all. Other than in the perfect harmony that he and Ruth created earlier on. Something that with no one other than the birds and the bees to hear them, he'd managed to persuade her would help them to relax. Now with only an hour to go before the off, he was looking at their final piece of kit. A small but supposedly idiot proof spray gun, which would designate a member of the opposition dead, in the unlikely event that they'd catch one. It was as ridiculous as expecting Ruth to run through a forest, with a crazed crossbow carrying lunatic chasing after her, and her hitting him over the head with a block of wood.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry and Ruth.

Apart from the obvious, that they'd stay together no matter what happened, they were going to walk not run. Taking a route that hopefully no one else had discovered, which if they were lucky and the map that they'd studied was accurate, would ultimately prove to be easier and less of a physical challenge. There would certainly be far less water courses to negotiate. A must Harry had insisted, when she'd confessed that she'd never been a strong swimmer, and that the thought of falling into freezing water in the dark - was a sentence that she hadn't needed to finish. Not only that, he'd stepped it up a gear in the _how can you resist me _sense, since the putting his foot in it incident, and it had been wonderful to actually spend some time on their own, whilst still being at work. Always something that they'd tried to limit on the grid, but had recently failed to do. His fault he'd confessed, he could do what he liked. He was the boss. Just the two of them for a whole afternoon, he'd been playful as well as sexual. A real surprise and so different from the containment that he usually showed, even when they were at home. Home in this case being hers, was far less high profile than his, was where she'd finally relented.

'Her resistance being futile, and him not having time on his side,' he'd joked one evening, having persuaded her to let him drive her home, was the reason that she'd said yes to that second date. Now she's so glad that she did. Also, and getting back to the present, it wouldn't really be cheating would it, it would be deemed resourceful? They'd contrived to split their load carrying into two packs.

The luggage that Harry had brought from home included a much smaller back pack than the one that Malcolm had put together, so having waited until they were well out of sight before they'd made the switch, it was this that Ruth was managing to carry quite easily. The heavier stuff repacked into the original that Harry was carrying, now considerably lighter.

Short lived maybe, but for the moment at least, Ruth had convinced herself that she wasn't the wimp that she'd thought she was, whilst Harry was reaffirming that he thought she was beautiful by telling her. They'd been on the move for about half an hour, not into the forest in pursuit of the others, but skirting it's perimeter. In front of them and less than a hundred metres away was their objective. What had once been a footpath was now a completely overgrown nothingness, which if their calculations were correct, would eventually transform itself into a rocky outcrop which would be much less treacherous to negotiate.

'Do you think we might run into Little Red Riding Hood?' Harry asked her, in an attempt to keep this much more confident Ruth just that, as the sun dipped down below the horizon and the semi-darkness closed in around them. Ruth didn't want to bump into anyone, fictional or otherwise, but she wasn't about to tell him, not yet anyway. Fortunately he was holding tightly onto her hand, whilst they took a moment to breathe. To give not only their eyes time to adjust to their surroundings, but for their ears to get accustomed to the night-time sounds. None of which at this stage were human, but whatever they were, Ruth was back to trying to blank out. Harry with the resolve to put aside his own concerns as to whether he'd be proved incapable of cutting it anymore and Ruth to do what didn't come naturally, and do whatever Harry told her for a change, especially when he decided to kiss her. A kiss that was to be tested to the maximum, during what was going to be a very long and at times difficult night.

'Come on we can do this,' he whispered, his warm breath ghosting across her cheek, as they left the safety of the open fields behind them.

Adam and Jo.

Several kilometres ahead of them and to their left, Adam and Jo, the founder members of the 'we just want Harry and Ruth to be happy committee, so let's hope they're alright,' were taking their first break. They'd already pinged a couple of the Spanish contingent, plus a Frenchman who'd been daft enough to have stopped to relieve himself above the ditch where they were resting. So far so good as far as they were concerned. Everything was going according to plan. They were the central pin in their team's armament, the glue that held it together and had planned a difficult but achievable route, with several alternatives if they ran into trouble.

Much the same as Harry, Adam had also packed a few hidden extras and both he and Jo were wearing balaclavas and face paint. But then unlike his boss, he wasn't planning a love fest under the stars, which if he had been, would have put a whole new slant on _I don't fancy yours. _Adam wanted to win, to use this opportunity to put his life back together, to become the man that Fiona would have wanted him to be. Not the flaky hidden self that he successfully buried at work, but reared its head when he got home to Wes. Jo was part of that plan, a project if you like, to help him. She was carved out of the same stone as he was. She had a heart as well. Proven as soon as she just passed him a pair of gloves, because the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees, plus the glimmer of moonlight that was creeping through the branches, suggesting that it was going to get even colder.

He'd been on exercises before when he'd done his training, but this was totally different. This time he was driven. The end result meant something and they needed to push on.

'Wait,' was unspoken, as he put his hand on Jo's arm, when another couple of pairs of legs vaulted the ditch above their heads. With no time restriction when it came to crossing the line, it was getting there without being caught that mattered. He tapped his hand on Jo's knee twice, indicating that they were changing to plan B, which meant they were going to be challenged by crossing the base of a waterfall at some stage. Hopefully at a time when the moon made it more visible. It had gone quiet for the moment. It was time to go.

Ros and Zaf.

Ros hadn't needed the inventiveness or the downright cunning that Harry and Adam were both employing, to persuade Zaf that she was in charge, and that climbing forty feet up a tree of less than dubious stability, was a good idea. Follow me and he'd done it without argument, which was the whole point really, as they sat side by side, listening to their opponents blundering about in the undergrowth below them. Not that she was surprised, but she hadn't expected him to follow her orders with such blind obedience.

What she hadn't remembered, because she'd been otherwise occupied at the time, was that Zaf had sat opposite her at dinner the previous evening and had overheard the conversation that she'd had with Harry, about her plans for Giovani Hamilton. Now call him a coward, but self- preservation and a long standing requirement from his parents, that he sleep with, or god forbid marry their best friend's daughter Ada, in order to continue the family line, and Zaf had needed to reassess the value of his prize assets. Something that up to now, hadn't had as much use as he kidded people they had, and certainly not with Ada. Ever the optimist, he was living in the hope that the tide might turn in his favour and that the less than appealing Ada, could be kicked into touch. To be replaced by someone more like Jo would be nice. Which meant that he had a very good reason to have gone pale at the prospect of feeling his bits and pieces being crushed beyond saving, if he pushed his new boss into using her vice like grip.

He was pretty sure that Harry'd had the same reaction in regard to Ros's declaration, given his now burgeoning relationship with his analyst. In fact, he was sure that he'd seen him wince, when she'd flexed her fingers. Ruth was lovely, but not in the sense that he, Zaf that was, wanted to sleep with her. She was more of a knit the team together kind of person, when things weren't going to plan. Whereas with Harry, she was the match that had lit his long overdue leap into enjoying life, as opposed to burying himself in his job and believing that all he was good for was saving the country. Bloody good luck to them, that was his opinion. Another of the many opinions that he'd been told to keep to himself, which wasn't fair. This wasn't what he'd signed up for, although it was could never be described as boring, that was for sure.

Whereas poor old Malcolm with his two broken fingers who was stuck on the grid would be missing out, as would their new idiot field officer Mark. Fancy breaking your leg on your first day, by getting it trapped in the lift door, when you could be having fun this.

'Follow me,' and the rope that had miraculously appeared from nowhere, brought him back down to earth with a bump - literally.

He pulled his hat tighter onto his head. There were far too many birds in this forest for his liking and he wasn't just talking about the woman that was hissing at him to get a move on.

She on the other hand was in her element. This is what she did best. On the left flank of the pairings, Ros had meticulously plotted their route. Water courses, what watercourses? They were puddles. Harry and his 'Ruth and I are going this way,' was piffle, let them get on with it. Adam however did pose a challenge and Ros was always up for a challenge. She wanted to come in first and that meant in the total sense. Beating everybody. Zaf was good and she'd changed her mind about being paired with him. He was young and fit, whereas for one dreadful moment she'd wondered if Adam had been going to land her with Ruth, or worse still Harry. At least where Ruth was concerned, she'd have been able to chuck her over her shoulder and carry her, whereas Harry would have wanted to be in charge. It wasn't that she didn't like them, because she did. She was even beginning to admit to herself that she envied them their relationship. But mixing work with pleasure, not in a million years. She was Ros Myers, and tonight she intended proving just how much of an asset she really was.


	6. Chapter 6

They've left the ditch and are making reasonably good progress. Only once needing to dive into the undergrowth when they hear footsteps approaching. It's the number of notches on bedposts that count, so who the legs belong to is irrelevant. Bollocks it seems, has universally replaced 'oh dear I was so looking forward to this weekend and now look what's happened', with or without a translation. They are doing their bit for the team. Four hits and counting, and Jo has earned herself a high five and a broad smile from Adam.

Now though they have more serious things to contend with, hearing the sound of the water long before they reach it. Lucky in their challenge so far, Adam has convinced her that this isn't going to be difficult. She trusts Adam, she always has, but with a noise that's going to be deafening they won't be able to communicate, and that worries her. Justified as soon they round the rock face and came face to face with the torrent. Not of massive proportions, but big enough and certainly forceful enough to have warranted a sign ordering parents to keep children and dogs on a lead. But then presumably no one other than the rangers or the military come here, or idiot members of the security services?

'Downstream,' Adam is indicating as well as shouting. Surely he doesn't think she can hear him? The spray from the roaring torrent hitting their faces and making her shiver. Anticipation for the moment replacing her fear, as she turns her back on the forest and clambers down to stand on a ledge that's nearer to Adam. With no trees to contend with, there is sufficient light from the moon to be able to discern what is in front of her, but not slipping on the rocks or worse still falling into the water and letting Adam down, are high on her list of priorities. She tells herself to concentrate, that she'll be fine. For a brief moment, Ruth's face when they'd had their briefing flashes into her mind. Where she and Harry are, she had no idea, she just hopes that they're not going to have to encounter anything like this. It's ridiculous that Ruth has been forced to come on this mission. Bloody Towers. Has the man no compassion? Although and it is a huge although. Knowing Ruth, she'd have probably contrived a way to come anyway, 'given that' makes her smile for a second. Harry will be looking after her, she'll be fine.

Adam is signalling to her again, pointing to a spot lower down where the water looks as though it evens out into more of a river. She strains her eyes to see, eventually making out an irregular line of stones. Some worn flatter than the others by the water that will have raced over them for centuries. She knows what's coming, it's the moment of truth. His 'follow me,' indicated with a wave of his arm is an order. She can't delay, or she'll end up having to crossing the water on her own. She grabs hold of what she hopes is a branch that's attached to something so that she can ease herself down. Unlike Ros they haven't got a rope, so she needs to blank out all thought, other than where to put her feet. Keep your eye on Adam she tells herself, he's made it so you'll be fine. But she's got shorter legs than he has and she's immediately at a disadvantage as she takes the first step. _Ouch that bloody hurt_ goes unheard, when she feels her back scraping across a protruding rock. Adam of course is already at the bottom. She takes a moment to catch her breath, before launching herself into oblivion.

While Jo and Adam are ankle deep in icy water, Ros has called a brief halt to proceedings. From Zaf's point of view, she's mercifully abandoned her desire to be a monkey, in exchange for an evening on terra firma. Zaf temporarily being treated as an equal, they are both eating something other than a banana. Cold sausages that had been left over from the dinner that he and Jo had cooked earlier, he'd kept to one side rather than throw away. This according to Ros is resourceful. 'No beans?' and he's beginning to consider the possibility that Ros might actually have a sense of humour.

They'd covered far more distance than their colleagues, well why wouldn't they? She is Ros Myers, man, or in these days of political correctness, person on a mission. Sitting in hollow of a fallen tree trunk they are certainly much warmer than their colleagues. Ahead of them are a series of gullies akin to a giant rabbit warren or a maze, which have been carved out by the water but are now bone dry. Coming face to face with the opposition, is unlikely she's assured him. Being seen is virtually impossible. Torches are banned, so they just needed to keep their heads down and lie still if they hear anyone. They'll be fine.

When they'd studded the map, they'd calculated that the ditches stretch for several kilometres, after which they'd be pretty much forced out into the open again. To a clearing, which on the far side has a series of cabins where the maintenance teams kept their equipment, or in the case of those who lived too far away to go home in the evenings, spend their nights. Presumably not this weekend, when the forest will be alive with security service personnel tearing about in their precious domain. Ros doubted they'd even been told they'd be there. If they could make it across the clearing without being spotted, then they'd be within touching distance of their target. First things first. Zaf nodded his consent, why wouldn't he. A flick of her head and they were on the move again.

_Ruth and he had been making really good progress, by keeping an eye on the time and calculating how far they'd travelled. Just a couple more metres and they'll reach the top of the latest incline and be able to take their first break._

_It's ridiculous he knows that, but with Ruth alongside him in this vast forest, something deep within him has changed. It isn't because she's dressed in clothes that don't flatter her or that she's scrambling up a moss-covered rock face, gritting her teeth as though her life depends on it, although they're having a huge impact on the way he's been feeling. It's more than that. In the disappearing light, he wants to call out to someone. To say stop, wait a moment, I haven't finished yet. That being to look at her, to admit that the tide in his life has truly turned, and what up until now had been something that had felt like a dream, has become so much more. He's in love with Ruth, really in love, and he wants to be able to shout it to the heavens._

_But he can't, he doesn't have the time. Because suddenly she's slipping and he can see how terrified she is. He can't lose her now. He just can't let this happen. Instinct kicks in and knows that he needs to be able to step across behind her, to break her fall. To take the hit. But he's rooted to the spot._

_He's got to make a decision, to find a way to convince her, which he makes quickly. But he's desperately searching for a rope that he doesn't have. Anything that she can tie around her waist and stop her from falling. To give him time to climb to the top and pull her up after him. But it's too late, she's gone._

Since they'd turned into the forest they'd been walking for well over an hour and Ruth's pleased that she's coped with whatever had been thrown at her, including the need to cross a not so small water filled gully. She's long since given up caring about what she's dressed in or wishing she was back on the grid. She's not quite sure why she always thinks of it as home, but she does. But this is different. Here with Harry, in a situation that is so far removed from what they're used to, she's been experiencing a huge adrenaline rush. Intimate and exciting. Probably at the thought of what's to come, especially now that the temperature has dropped and they've stopped to add another layer under their combat clothing, laughing about their combined goose pimples. With him now suggesting that they pull the canopy over them and rest for a moment, while they warm up.

It's the middle of the night and both of them are delighting in the closeness of the other and ridiculousness of the situation, until she realises that Harry has fallen asleep. Not only that he's trembling. People die in temperatures such as this don't they? She needs to do something.

'Harry wake up, you're shaking,' she urges him. Edging even nearer to him, as if that's even possible, given that they're already wrapped up together. She rubs his back, in effort to provide some extra warmth. Nothing, not the slightest response, so she tries again. If someone hears her, then to hell with it. Getting Harry to wake up is her only concern.

'Harry,' she tries again, even louder, her hands now either side of his face, willing him to open his eyes.

When he does, it's with a huge shudder.

'I was dreaming,' he tells her, forcing himself to blank out the nightmare and tell only a white lie, in the hope that she'll bye it. But this is Ruth and she cares about him. Knows him inside out, especially when he's so obviously holding something back.

'What about?' Is as predictable as the way she affects him.

The last thing he wants to tell her is that she'd been slipping down a rock face and that he'd been unable to save her. He doesn't deal in premonitions, they're twaddle, he deals in facts. Dreams don't come true either, apart from the one that he's now living. He needs her to believe that she's doing well, which she is, far better than him it seems.

Saved for a moment from further interrogation, 'eat this,' she demands, 'and then have a drink.' She's handing him one of the so-called energy bars, that smell like the dog biscuits that he used to give to Scarlet. Despite the gloom and the seriousness of the situation, she's looking after him, as she has done for a long time. With an expression of sheer devotion.

'How about we share one,' he suggests. Hoping that it will help her to stop worrying about him, despite the fact that they can barely see each other as the moon decides to go behind another cloud.


	7. Chapter 7

It has started to rain, so despite her wearing heavy boots and socks, the freezing water is not only permeating through to her feet, but is beating down on her face. She's only halfway across and has stopped, breathing heavily. If she falls in now she'll get soaked to the skin, whereas Adam, who has already reached the bank, will be bone dry. His energy levels don't seem to have dropped at all, whereas she's beginning to doubt her ability to last the course. She's also pretty certain that he wouldn't be stopping at all, if it wasn't for her holding him up. They're so far ahead of where they'd planned to be at this stage, that surely another break so she can rub her feet until they're warm again, or maybe change her socks, won't make that much of a difference? Who knows though, she's new and comparatively inexperienced, still anxious to prove herself, especially to him.

By the time that she reaches the bank and hauls herself up onto the ledge, Adam has already opened their back pack and is rummaging around inside. Socks miraculously appear unbidden. 'I'm cold, I don't know about you,' she doesn't believe for a moment. This is just him being kind, or maybe he's a mind reader or even a wizard? Are all spooks supposed to be mind readers? Ruth certainly is, she's amazing. The best that they've ever had according to Malcolm. That Adam really likes Ruth, she already knows. She's even seen him confiding in her, when things on the grid are getting tough. But then that's what she's paid for, she's an analyst for heaven's sake.

Maybe she's being presumptuous, but of all the people that work on the grid, it's Ruth that she'd like to get closer too if she could. To talk to her about her doubts as to what they do at times and how she copes with the pressure. Have her as friend. Something she doesn't have any more and misses, now that she's joined five. Maybe while they're still here, or when they get home, she'll find an opportunity to talk to her about life outside of work? Other than at The George of course. Although since she and Harry have got together, they rarely make the effort, which is a shame. Everyone knows, so it doesn't matter, and Adam can deal with Ros and her stupid opinions. It would be nice if they could become a complete unit again without this competitiveness that has developed since Ros has joined. Because that's what they should be, becomes an unfinished train of thought, when Adam miraculously produces a hip flask filled with brandy and offers it to her. Just a sip, he's indicating, pointing to his watch, whilst at the same time nodding to her to take her boots off.

'It's my job to look after you,' he shouts above the noise of the water, rubbing life back into her freezing feet. 'Stop worrying you're doing fine,' confirms it. He is a mind reader. She makes a mental note to ask Ruth which course she needs to go on.

In complete contrast and against all the odds, Ros and Zaf really are in one hell of a pickle. Not only are they also suffering due to the sudden drop in the temperature, but the warren of ditches are proving far more difficult to negotiate than they'd anticipated. Full of brambles that resemble Zaf's granny's knitting on a bad day, who have long since decided that producing blackberries is a waste of time. Customers - what customers? Instead they've taken up a new challenge, an intricate pattern that involves attaching themselves to anything that decides it's going to disrupt their late autumn recess. Which in this case is a family of rather large decomposed rodents, far too close for comfort to the arms and legs which belong to the left flank of section D. The leader of which, is not surprisingly in a state of high dudgeon. As well as having acquired a rather nasty scratch on her face, something that evoked an expletive that was anything but ladylike, She and Zaf are well and truly stuck. An even playing field, Zaf is wisely keeping to himself, as he helps her untangle her arm from the latest bramble that is forming an unwanted attachment.

Adding to the no longer _sunny_ _disposition_ that she's somehow inherited from Harry and Zaf's now wisely buttoned amusement, is that their objective of reaching the clearing in double quick time and ahead of the others, is seemingly obliterated. Made ten times worse, if that were at all possible, is that as they lie there, temporarily unable to move, hurdling the ditch with apparent ease, are at least four members of the so called 'we don't need to worry about them team' Aka the Italians. Whether or not their half Scottish member is among them isn't apparent, but Zaf somehow hopes that he is. Now temporarily blinded as to how easy it is to wind Ros up, he puts his foot well and truly in it.

'At least they didn't know we were here,' he hears to his horror, has increased her desire to knee somebody in the naggers. Please god not his, which are far too close for comfort, albeit that they've suddenly shrunk to the size of a prune.

Half an hour later, by which time his now not so blonde boss, is still looking and feeling like someone whose been mauled and is going to take revenge on anything that moves, Zaf has wisely decided that he just wants this evening to be over and done with and will do anything to make that happen. Having successfully extricated themselves from the ditch and taken a much longer route than they intended, they are approaching the edge of the clearing. Another miscalculation on their part, as it seems to have increased in size, which will leave them totally exposed to the opposition, should they dare to attempt to cross it in search of cover. The map and the need to recalculate, is demanded with another spectacular hiss.

Harry and Ruth are at least for the moment, having a much more pleasant evening. Having escaped the near- death experience of Harry's nightmare, to be told that he needs her as much as she needs him, words that will come back to haunt him and change his mind about premonitions, Ruth is currently scrambling across the latest of the rock formations with a lot more confidence than she'd ever thought possible. Boosted by what can only be described as a lengthy and unexpected snog, _necessary for him to get warm again_, had been bollocks, but none the less very enjoyable, she's beginning to enjoy this outdoor life, that up until now she'd avoided like the plague.

Camping for what is left of the night, preferably in a tent with Harry next to her, still remains her greatest wish, but for the moment she's trying not to think too far ahead. They've been on the move for what feels like ages and she's sure that he's just as tired as she is. Not that he'd dream of admitting it of course. He's Harry.

The last of the small gullies needs to be negotiated, one where Harry is already on the other side, with an expression that's telling her to jump, she can do this. She closes her eyes and launches herself into the air for what seems an eternity, until his strong hands grab hold of her. This isn't so bad as I thought, is on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't have time to say it, because Harry has doubled over and is clutching his back. The pain evident.

'It's only a spasm, I'll be alright in a moment,' is utter rubbish. It's happened so many times recently and she's told him that he needs to see a doctor. But has taken any notice, no of course he hasn't.

'Stay where you are,' is a ridiculous, because it's his only option.

'Anything you say Ruth, just be quick,' is said looking at his boots and is equally crazy. Because they both know that there's no quick fix to this.

At least they're on level ground, god knows what she'd have done if they'd been on the rock face. So while he attempts unsuccessfully to stand up straight and instead hobbles towards her doing an impression of Quasimodo, she searches through the back pack and then pleads with him to to be patient. She knows what she has do, she's done it before, but not in temperatures as cold as this and when her hands are starting to shake. Telling herself not to panic, but at the same time wishing that this could have been just another of Harry's dreams, isn't helping. She needs to concentrate.

Ahead of them is a much more accessible footpath that will take them far deeper into the forest but closer to home, but her in current state of mind she can't remember the exact route or how much further they have to go. Much closer to where Ros and Zaf are supposed to be heading, would be nice, although they'll be long gone by now, she'd stake her life on it. She seems to remember something about a series of cabins where they'll be able to rest up. What she wouldn't give for her and Harry to be close to one of those right now.

Before that though and trying desperately hard not to cry, she knows that her only hope is to unravel the canopy and wrap it around Harry. If only she can get him to sit or lie down, she'll be able to use their spare clothing to cushion his back. Keeping him warm and dry is now vital. What she wouldn't give for a cup of tea or to be able to make a cup of coffee for Harry and be tucked up in their nice warm bed at home. But they're not and as far as she's concerned they're lost. Another wince and a muted apology and Harry has a strangle grip on her hand. She needs to find his painkillers.


	8. Chapter 8

As he drifts between wakefulness and sleep, Harry knows that he needs to stay in bed. At least for the moment. It's seven in the morning, according to a clock that striking somewhere and he feels warm again. Warmer than he's felt in hours. Adam and Jo keep flashing in and out of his consciousness, as does Ruth who he knows is with him. This really isn't the way that he'd planned for their weekend to end, but as the pain had increased and made its way down into both his legs, he'd had no other option than to surrender. For the moment at least he is pain free, after an injection of what he no longer cares. Not that he hadn't kicked up a stink when he'd been ordered unceremoniously to drop his pants, by a doctor with a needle in his hand, large enough in his opinion to have brought a horse to its knees.

He also knows that he should be suggesting to Ruth that she goes back to her own room to get some sleep, but after the night that they've had, he wants to keep her close. She'd refuse point blank anyway, in the same way that she'd refused to leave him. She's said very little, but then actions always speak louder than words when it comes to Ruth, and he knows what she'll been doing. Processing as she always does and putting things into perspective. That at some time in the future, when the memories of what could have been have dimmed, that they'll laugh about this weekend and remember that it wasn't all bad. In fact it had been quite magical at times. The two of them under the stars - until. 'Just look at them' he'd heard Jo whisper. Not than he can remember when.

Two hours earlier.

Having successfully crossed the finishing line, Adam and Jo had been happily handing in their details when they'd receive the call from Ruth.

'Harry and I are in trouble Adam,' and he'd dropped everything and headed back out. Jo insisting that she come with him, despite him knowing that she could barely feel her feet. All previous thought as to whether Ros and Zaf were safely back, gone in that one single moment. With only a vague idea as to where Harry and Ruth might be, it had taken them almost an hour before they'd found them. Made worse, because by then the skies had well and truly opened. Wrapped up together like a chrysalis, cold, wet and in Harry's case in a lot of pain, it could have been so much worse. Section D and Harry in particular, had been saved from the ignominy of a full search and rescue mission, and the inevitable headlines that would have followed.

That they'd been within a kilometre of their objective, which all things considered was not only remarkable, but unfair, had an inevitability about it. As did Ruth's attitude. Despite her obvious distress, she'd spent the entire time that they'd been waiting, convincing herself and Harry that they'd be fine. She was tougher than she thought and he'd made a mental note to talk to her later. He also had the ammunition that he wanted, to have a not so quiet word with Towers when they got home. To explain the concept of compassion and the role that desk spooks were expected to play.

When they'd finally arrive back at the infirmary, there had been people everywhere trying to make themselves understood. Some in a far worse state than Harry by the look of things. Which was why Harry had understandably been in no mood to hang around. Why would he, he hated hospitals and in this case they'd shared his frustration. Added to which, Ruth's stoic attitude had started to crumble. Shivering from the shock and with her emotions all over the place, she was if anything, in more need of attention than he was. Which was why they'd made the decision that it was pointless to hang around and had to taken them to Harry's room. Adding them to the list for the doctor to see whenever he could.

With the promise that they'd come and see them later, his next priority had been Jo. She had blisters and her grin and bear it attitude was all very well and good, but they needed to be dealt with. He'd helped her peal of her boots and socks and the skin that had come with them and then left her to bathe her feet. She was a valuable member of his team and she needed looking after, just as they all did.

Whether as a means of keeping him there, or out of curiosity, Jo had brought up the 'where do you think it will go from here question', meaning Harry and Ruth. To which he didn't have a quick answer. Lasting happiness was a rarity in all walks of life and high powered jobs with a good income, meant for nothing. What he was sure of, was that adversity either cemented a relationship or destroyed it and from what he'd seen over the last twenty four hours or so of Harry and Ruth, he'd put his money on the former. Someone in this shady world that they moved in deserved happiness, so why not them?

'Hopefully Ruth and Harry will work things out, but it's not for us to speculate.' he'd told Jo. Keeping them both on the grid from now on would be a start, but try telling that to Harry, was something for him alone to point out to his boss.

Once back in his own room and having sent a quick message to Wes, he's showered and tried to sleep. But keeping him awake, is the knowledge that this entire weekend has always had the potential to be a disaster, just because the politicians wanted to show off, by pitting their wits against their neighbours. As far as he knows, nobody has died, but they could have done. Their job is to protect, not to try and beat the crap out of their allies, although he has to admit that in the main he's enjoyed it and has learnt a lot about his colleagues. If there's a next time, which there will be, there always is, he's going to suggest to the Home Secretary that he and his buddies roll up their sleeves and jump in a river of icy water, if for no other reason than he'd like to see his expression.

While the injured and their rescuers are settling down to get some shut eye, Ros and Zaf have just arrived back at the campsite. Three empty tents, neat and tidy and just as they left them, suggesting that their colleagues are still out there somewhere, is bringing some sort of light relief, after what has been an eye opener of a night for both of them.

Zaf is only too pleased to be told, with a now well recognised sweep of her arm, that he can take his pick of the accommodation on offer, because she who must be obeyed, intends going to take a shower and then 'wants to sleep alone.' Over dramatic in the extreme and all because he's suggested that she should get some medical attention, because the scratch on her face, is in his opinion looking nasty. As the night had progressed, things had gone from bad to worse and if he wasn't such a nice bloke, he'd go to Harry about the way he's being treated. Flip flopping from being almost human, to Godzilla when she's not been getting her way, amounts to bullying, not leadership. It isn't his fault that the forest has been full of brambles and trip hazards, although according to Ros it is.

The sandwiches and hot drinks that they've been given, mean at least he's not hungry, so once he hears Ros come back after her shower, he'll go for one himself and then select the tent that's farthest from hers. As he waits, his thoughts turn to his other colleagues, especially Ruth and Jo. A complete contrast to Ros. He hopes that wherever they are, that they're safe.

Ros through her own making has the shower block to herself. She shouldn't have picked on Zaf. It wasn't his fault that they'd got lost. They'd planned their route together. She needs to apologise, but at the moment she doesn't know how. It's not in her nature, it never has been. But if she's going to survive in section D, which she desperately wants to do, then she's going to have to find a way. It had all been going so well until those wretched ditches. She should have just backed off and not let it get to her, but she hadn't and that isn't fair. Zaf had been the perfect foil to her ridiculously repressed and competitive nature, full of jokes and taking the exercise for what it was. 'An evening under the stars' he'd called it at one stage and she'd bitten his head off and told him not to be so childish.

She looks in the mirror and immediately sees that Zaf is right. The scratch on her face has flared up and does need attention. She fills the sink with hot water and splashes her face - _bugger that hurts. _She cleans her teeth and then heads into the shower. She needs to wash her hair which she knows looks a mess. She should have worn it up. God knows why she hadn't? Little miss perfect they used to call her at school, hits her like a freight train. Is that what her colleagues think of her now? If they do, then for the first time in as long as she can remember she's completely alone. Worse than that, she knows that the tears are coming.


	9. Chapter 9

The blackboard outside the dining room, welcoming what are left of the agents who can put one foot in front of the other, indicates that four members from each team have succeeded in completing the course. A work of complete fiction, designed as either an apology or a get out clause, is being discussed at length by those who have made it, plus several more, who having been patched up, feel more inclined to enjoy the slap-up buffet and drinks that are on offer, than to spend their evening in the infirmary. A wise decision as it turns out, as the eight not so lucky souls, who have varying parts of their anatomy encased in bandages, are being spoon fed what is being described as a shepherd's pie with mashed vegetables. The description obviously assuming that everyone knows what a shepherd's pie is, and doesn't think that they're being fed part of a shepherd or his dog.

Harry is of course one of those who's chatting away, not without the occasional grimace and 'someone save me' expression on his face, to a bleached blonde Spaniard, whose decided that Harry is a prime target for her life story. Retribution for him being there he imagines. Stubborn to the last, he wasn't stupid he'd told Adam, who'd been summoned for the second time in as many hours, by a much calmer but still frustrated Ruth. He knew that the pain was being masked by the injection, but he'd had a good sleep and was buggered if he was going to be listed as missing in action when he wasn't. That he'd had to promise Ruth that he'd get a proper diagnosis as soon as they got home or she'd shred his clothes, in which case he'd have to travel home in his pyjamas, he hadn't mentioned. Something that by the time they walk into the dining room isn't obvious. Or the fact that they've had what amounts to a minor falling out. The reason that they're late, another matter entirely.

He and Ruth are supposed to be circulating, a word that he despises. Mainly because he's been forced to do it on too many occasions. Some of which he'd rather forget. In particular when he's had a legend that has required him to spend his evening with a woman for the sake of the cause. Another of the many things that he hopes he will never have to tell Ruth. Although as she's read his file from cover to cover, she probably knows more about him than he does. The past is just that and it can't be changed, but he's made a promise with himself that he'll never do it again. Besides which he's destined to be a desk spook isn't he?

People who are lost on a ring road circulate, he'd told one Home Secretary, whose name he can no longer remember. What has stuck, is that he'd received the kind of dismissal that he's grown used to. Obtuse the man had called him and told him to get on with it. Maybe he should just change his middle name to 'cheerful' was what had brought the end to that particular conversation. Whoever the man was, he hadn't laughed, so maybe it is only Ruth that enjoys his sense of humour?

He wants this charade to be over and to go home, even if it does mean facing up to what he's been trying to ignore. He really needs be sitting down, but more than anything he'd like a proper drink, as opposed to the mineral water he's currently drinking and pretending to enjoy.

A call of 'Harry' finally saves him. Adam has found a quiet corner with a group of chairs that are currently unoccupied, and Ruth with a gesture of courage has taken his arm and is marshalling him across the room. He'd barely touched his breakfast, so he needs to eat something. He quite likes the idea of the shepherd's pie and veg that's being dished up in the infirmary, but it's posh finger food or nothing, when Jo, who seems to have been given the roll of keeping him alive, arrives with a plate of what she presumably thinks he'll enjoy. Jo who had come with Adam to rescue them and thought nothing of it. He needs to have a quiet word with her when he gets a moment and to say thank you. Despite her trying to pretend otherwise, he suspects that she's also in pain.

Having left him in Jo's capable hands, he sees that Ruth is chatting away to Zaf, whose bouncing about as he usually does. Whereas Ros, who is normally more than capable in these sorts of situations, is looking far from happy. She looks isolated and knowing Ros as he does, this has to mean more than what looks like a nasty cut on her face.

'Pop over and tell Ros that I need someone to keep me company,' he tells Jo, 'and then you go off and enjoy yourself.' Earns him a look, which implies he'd meant say Ruth?

* * *

Even before he can anything, 'I think I need to go back to six,' Ros is telling him.

'Why?' not nearly adequate in the circumstances.

'Because I don't fit in,' is easily fixable. But this situation needs tact and he's not big on tact. Whatever he says, he mustn't make Ros think that he's patronising her. Despite her attitude she's invaluable. She's different, and the team needs different. If he can get past frosty, then feisty is a good word to describe Ros. Too feisty for him? Absolutely.

'Not before Saturday I hope, because you'll miss the meal,' he tells her.

'What meal?' is a meal that's come from the look on Jo's face, which of course Ruth knows nothing about. He hopes she'll appreciate his reasoning and can cook. Something that they haven't spent much time doing up until now.

'The one at my place next weekend, that Ruth and I have been planning,' he tells the one person that Ruth still feels uncomfortable with, wondering what else it will take for the floor to open up and swallow him. 'Ros, few people find it easy to fit in when they first came to the section, but through necessity and the need to get the job done, they find a way. Each of us is struggling in our own way, so maybe you just need to chill out a bit,' he continues, the floor staying annoyingly firm. Desperation causing him to come out with another of the expressions that he detests, is better than telling Ros, to get a grip. Or imply that she's frosty, which will kill the conversation stone dead.

_Did he really just suggest to her that she needs to chill out?_ Ros can barely believe it. It's so unlike Harry to have veered into, what in 'Harry speak' amounts to treasonous. She waits, assuming that there's more to come. Another gem perhaps. This time, from an era when they were still using quill pens in the meeting room. But no, he's got that annoying over to you expression on his face.

'I think that I've been a bit over zealous in my criticism of Zaf and I don't know how to apologise,' she tells him, settling for the truth.

Now there's a surprise, sounds too sarcastic. Taking a gamble when it comes to the personal is not something that he feels comfortable with, but it _will_ kill two birds with one stone. Whatever else Ros might be, she's not stupid. She'll realise that what he's about to tell her is his attempt at humour and as far as the second part is concerned, that it's in strictest confidence. Fireworks from Ruth - what fireworks?

'Not many people know this, but I also failed to get a degree in 'not how to put your foot in it,' he tells her. 'Go and talk to Zaf, he's a good man and he'll understand. And just for the record, Ruth and I _are_ together. Providing she says yes to the meal, you'll be very welcome,' sees Ros smiling into her drink, if not at him. 'Swap places with Ruth, I need to talk to her about her cooking skills, because mine are absolute rubbish,' and she's gone.

It's like the passing of chalk and cheese, as Harry watches Ros disappear and sits waiting for Ruth to arrive. For the moment at least, he can forget that he's blown their relationship wide open for the sake of equilibrium, and instead can enjoy watching her weaving her way towards him. Through small groups of people, who for the last couple of days have been hell bent on beating the crap out of each other, he's transfixed. This isn't work anymore, it's pure pleasure. Across a crowded room floods into his mind. He's sure that there's a song with those words in it, from a musical maybe? Ruth will know. It's just a well that he can't stand up for any length of time, because he knows that if he does that he'll kiss her. Maybe it's the red jumper that she's wearing, the one that's always driven him crazy with want, or maybe it's the way that her freshly washed hair is gleaming under the bright lights, or the smile and the twinkle in her eyes as she looks at him. Put them all together and he's lost. All sense of reason or responsibility are gone. It's Ruth that matters most in his life and he's going to tell her.

On the other side of the room and through the small gap in the crowd that has been created by Ruth and Ros crossing paths, Adam and Jo are sharing a plate of food and casually chatting. He's been through the pastoral care and the don't underrate yourself chat, which Jo has accepted for what it is. They are just about to launch into the less formal when they both notice Harry's face. Whatever they are about to say stalls and they both know that they are watching the same thing. It's rare, almost unheard of as a group, that they get the chance to relax like this or are able to watch Ruth and Harry in a situation that doesn't involve work, or more recently rescue. That something is about to happen is obvious. Whatever the conversation involves, it's not one where Ruth is asking him how his back is that's for sure, because whatever he's just said, she has a look of incredulity on her face. Has Harry said something stupid is the first question? Obviously not. Because now everything around them seems to have stopped, and Ruth's expression is matching Harry's.

'There's your answer,' Adam whispers.


	10. Chapter 10

It's still raining, except now it's British rain. Which somehow makes a difference, according to the long list of the reasons that Harry's glad to be home. He's in bed again, but this time Ruth _is_ with him. He's been told in no uncertain terms that he needs to refrain from strenuous exercise for at least a month, which is why he's currently considering the state of his ceiling, while at the same time counting to ten. Eight years he's lived in this house and he's never realised until now, that it's covered with those dreadfully old-fashioned swirls, that were so popular in the seventies. Maybe he ought to move to somewhere more modern, is interrupted by the voice that he loves more than any other.

'Adam's asked if he can bring Wes with him. I said yes,' Ruth tells him, putting her phone down and turning back over to face him, intent on resuming the conversation about Saturday evening's meal and what they, or more precisely she, is going to cook. Apart from the fact that it's rapidly developing into biblical proportions, she's never cooked anything more elaborate, than a basic roast for her parents.

On the plus side and cheering her up, is that Harry has told her that she's the most important thing in his life, a conversation that he wants to continue after _their_ guests have either gone home happy, or she's poisoned them. This is Harry's house, so it's the their that she's still struggling with. She knows how well Harry gets on with Wes and how he's been supporting Adam, so maybe having a child in the house will act as a distraction? In this case a distraction to shift the attention away from them. But then this isn't about them she keeps telling herself. This is Harry's way of offering an informal thank you, after what has been a truly eye opener of a weekend.

From Harry's point of view, he's told her that he's talked Ros out of going back to six, to which she'd replied, 'am I supposed to be pleased?' What he hasn't told her is how he's confided in Ros and why. That Ruth finds him irresistible, as opposed to the bastard that Jane and more recently Juliet have called him, which also includes remarks about him pouting, something that up until now he's strenuously denied, amounts to the eighth wonder of the world. Which means that all in all, things with them are back to how they were before they left. Except for 'any action in bed', or in their case making love, as Ruth insists on him calling it. But then up until very recently, they've spent the last two years or so, with no more than a hint of a suggestion. So why suddenly, is the thought of abstaining for a month, proving so difficult? Because he's being denied what he wants of course. That she's now rewarding him, by trailing her fingers across his stubble covered face and kissing him, means what?

There's no passion in the kiss, well just a tiny bit maybe, but all the gentleness that he knows she has in bucket loads when it comes to him. Who wouldn't enjoy this, the feeling of being looked after and he hopes loved? A word that still remains unspoken, hovering as it waits to be said. On Saturday night after the others have gone home, the clearing up can wait. That's when he's going to tell her and if he has the courage, ask her to move in with him. The problem is, that as the kiss deepens he can feel his body responding. He knows that nothing must come from this, at least not for him. Is he able to give Ruth what he wants to and make this all about her? It will be a first. But then everything about their relationship has been a first. It's still new, in it's infancy, weeks rather than months. That's what's making it so special. Either that or he pushes her away and that's the last thing that he wants to do.

You can do this he tells himself, as with a huge effort he heaves himself up so that he's resting on his left arm, allowing his right hand to wander at will. Forget the pain he tells himself, especially as he's eliciting a reaction that shows no semblance of a refusal. Which is why he needs to concentrate and to forget that Ruth will be going into work on Monday and that he won't. A subject that is still up for discussion. Although he already knows which one of them is going to win that battle. Strolling in the park after a session with the physio is what he can look forward to, whereas she will be helping his team with whatever crisis is about to hit the nation. The plus side being that they'll get to spend more time together in the evenings. _Don't mention the cooking again, _he deepens the kiss.

They've made a pact and Harry shouldn't be doing this. Although apart from the fact that he's responding to the kiss, which he's cleverly manoeuvring down across her neck, nothing else has happened. The problem with that theory, is that Harry knows exactly what she likes, so it's rapidly reaching the stage where she'll be powerless to stop him, or will want to. This is madness she tells her saner self. If he tries to roll further onto his side, he could collapse on top of her and God help them if she has to ring for an ambulance. The other Ruth, the one whose being built up to the point of no resistance, is silently pleading with Harry not to stop. Not that Harry intends to. It's suddenly incredibly satisfying to be able to build her up like this and to hear her breathing becoming more and more ragged. Pain what pain?

Saturday morning.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and Ruth is ringing Adam - again. She's already bought what feels like the entire contents of the nearest supermarket, but is battling Harry's suggestion, that she should make a gargantuan shepherd's pie. Harry of course, who until recently has existed on takeaways and the occasional fry up, isn't going to be helping. It's not the food that counts, it's the company he's told her, as she looks at the worktops of Harry's usually pristine kitchen, that she's covered with bags and boxes.

'Hold tight we'll be with you in half an hour,' is music to her ears. Whether or not Wes has really been driving Adam crazy, because he'd told him the day before that they're going to Harry's, she doesn't care. 'We can leave Wes to entertain Harry, or the other way round,' Adam is telling her. 'He's got a box of stuff he wants to bring.'

'Box,' she says weakly.

But it isn't until later in the evening, by which time everyone has been fed and are spread out around Harry's sitting room, that Ruth realises that she's breathing. That she'd been over thinking the entire thing, she'd acknowledged when she'd gone into the kitchen, during a break after the main course. It's not enough though, so she decides to put herself in a position of an outsider looking in. She's invisible, seeing what other people see. It's just an ordinary evening, with a group of friends who are enjoying themselves. Zaf is entertaining Wes and Jo with some of his conjuring tricks, Adam is sifting through Harry's CD's, presumably with a view to finding something more interesting than the London Philharmonic playing Beethoven's fifth and Ros, _shock horror_, no she really must stop thinking like this, is adjusting Harry's cushions. The easy option is to pretend that she enjoys card tricks, or to talk to Adam again. The difficult option, is that for the first time this evening she has time on her hands, so can go and cuddle up next to Harry. Which is of course what she wants to do.

'Thank you for inviting me, I've had a wonderful evening,' says a voice in her ear, as an arm comes around her shoulder. 'Now you know as well as I do, that it's not Ros that Harry wants to be sitting with, so acknowledge it Ruth,' says a mind reader. 'I'm sure Ros will be more than happy to help me clear up in the kitchen,' Malcolm tells her. Coming to her rescue, as he's done countless times over the years.

Much later, and after a huge hug from Wes that was accompanied by a wink from Adam, Ruth closes Harry's front door and walks back towards the sitting room. The house should feel empty but it doesn't, it feels blissful in every sense. Harry's switched some music on and she can hear the strains of Celine Dion singing 'How Does a Moment Last Forever?' Not normally Harry's kind of thing, but then Harry has always been full of surprises. She took her shoes off hours ago, in fact there was a real sort out at the front door when they all left, so she knows that he'll never hear her when she opens the door. Except that Harry's not sitting down and resting as he should be, he's leaning against the back of a chair waiting for her. It's Havensworth revisited, except that this time she's the one who has to walk towards him. The look in his eyes that night when she'd rejected him, is one she'll never forget, but this one is different. It still has the intensity, but it's a look that says dance with me, I know that you want to. His love for her has never been in doubt, she knows that. It's a love that has lasted all the rejections and uncertainty that she's thrown at him over the years. Except that this time she's not going to run, she's going to walk across the room and straight into Harry's arms.

That Adam had found the CD in Harry's collection and had left a note that said 'just tell her' he isn't about to admit, or the fact that in order to stand up that he's had to take another of his pain killers. The words of the song, he knows only too well. He's listened to them often enough during the time between their first date and now. What he does know is that he's going to tell Ruth what he should have told her when he took her out to dinner the first time, instead of skirting around the edges with talk of a Grand Tour. Not that he wouldn't still like to do that at some time, maybe as soon as his back is better? Paris over Christmas or in the Springtime, would be a dream place to start and see where it takes them?

'It's love we must hold on to, not easy but we try' Celine is singing to a couple that know that it's how they've felt for a long time, and are now on the verge of saying it.

**This is one of my favourite songs and one which I hope you agree, is appropriate for our favourite couple. Thank you again for your encouragement and support that keeps me writing.**


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